


You Can't Save Everyone

by Taesthxtic



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Sensory Overload, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:07:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taesthxtic/pseuds/Taesthxtic
Summary: Peter Parker isn't able to save someone during his patrol as Spiderman. Overcome with a sensory overload on top of a panic attack, he goes to the only person he can think of— Tony Stark.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 182





	You Can't Save Everyone

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been wanting to write something for this fandom for awhile now, and I figured now is as good a time as any! This is unbetated, so feel free to point out any mistakes you see, and I'll correct them right away. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, please tell me what you think!

Peter couldn’t save her. As he looked down at the woman’s body— gosh he didn’t even know her name— he could feel his ears begin to ring. The scene was too familiar to that dark night when Ben died, and suddenly, he wasn’t Spiderman anymore. He was just a weak kid who couldn’t protect his uncle. Much like Ben, the woman was bleeding out on the cold floor of an alleyway, and he wasn’t able to do anything to prevent it. 

_‘With great power comes great responsibility.’_ His uncle’s words rang through his head, and he jolted from his stupor, looking from the woman’s body to the robber, who was trying to flee the scene of the crime. Instead of letting the man get away— as he’d let Ben’s murderer— he quickly swung over to him, webbing him up without any of his usual catch phrases.

He couldn’t find it in himself to speak, as his tongue felt too heavy and thick in his mouth. Glancing back towards the woman, Peter knew undoubtedly that she was dead. He couldn’t hear her heartbeat, even when he tried to focus on it. Walking back over to her, he kneeled down, reaching down with a gloved hand and closing her eyes. He could hear sirens in the distance, and knew that he needed to leave, lest he wanted to stick around for the aftermath. 

He knew that he didn’t, and he quickly swung away, having no clue where it was that he was going. Today had been a massive failure, and he could feel it weighing him down as he webbed through the city. “Peter, your heart rate has increased considerably in the last five minutes. Might I suggest landing and calming yourself down?” Karen’s voice, which was normally so kind and soothing, grated his ears. 

“No Karen. I’m— I’m okay,” He choked out, biting back the panic that was slowly creeping up his chest. He just couldn’t believe that he’d been so _useless_ . He’d been _right there_. Just seconds from reaching her before the gunshot went off. If only he’d been faster. If he’d just been a little faster, then she would’ve lived. Why was he calling himself a superhero if he wasn’t able to save anyone? He should’ve been able to save her. 

Frustration made him clench his teeth as he continued forwards, not wanting to look back and face the consequences of his failure. Surely Mr. Stark would want the suit back after this. He’d let somebody _die_. That was much worse than anything he’d done so far. The sudden thought hit him like a train, and he found himself miscalculating the trajectory of one of his webs. Swinging was one of the easiest things he did, and he knew that he could do it even in his sleep. 

So, it came as a surprise when he was suddenly falling, nothing having snapped or interfered with his webs in any way. He simply missed the building he’d been intending to latch onto. A small scream tore it’s way from his throat as he fell, landing on a low level building that was closed for the night. He groaned upon the impact, feeling his teeth rattle in his skull as the breath was knocked out of him. The world swayed for several long moments, and he felt his vision go out for a flicker of a second. 

“Peter, you may have a mild concussion from the fall you took just now. Should I call Mr. Stark?” 

“What?” Peter’s ears were ringing, and he wasn’t able to suck in a full breath as he tried to roll over onto his side. 

“Calling Mr. Stark,” Karen said, before the distinct ringing filled his mask. 

“Cancel the call!” He shouted, his voice panicked as he struggled onto his hands and knees.

“Cancelling call.” The ringing stopped, and Peter released a breath of relief, although it was cut off by a sudden sob that surprised him. He found that once he started, he wasn’t able to stop, and a stream of sobs and whimpers left him as he crouched on his hands and knees, trying to bury his face in his arms.

He wished that it had been _him_ that had gotten shot— on both occasions. He deserved it, for not being able to protect anyone. Suddenly, everything around him was too _loud_ , and he flinched from the sudden assault on his senses. It felt like he could hear everything, from the coos of birds two buildings across from him, to the radios of cars several stories down. Even his own heartbeat pulsed loudly in his ears. 

He pressed his hands tightly against his ears trying to block out every noise he possibly could. It wasn’t working, but he was doing his best to pretend like it was. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do whenever one of his senses were dialed up to eleven like this. He never knew how long it would last, or if it’d ever stop. “Karen, Karen what do I do?” He whispered, practically mouthing the words.

“I’d advise you to contact Mr. Stark. He has prepared for times like this.” Despite her voice being quiet, it still hurt him, and he flinched, as though he could escape it without taking off his mask. 

“He won’t want to see me. I let someone get killed.”

“Nothing will stop him from wanting to see you, Peter.” Karen’s voice was reasonable, and Peter tried to take a shuddering breath, sitting up on his hunches with his hands still firmly pressed over his ears. _‘Just go to Mr. Stark. Mr Stark will know what to do.’_ He thought as he stood to his feet, his head pulsing from the action. When it finally felt as though he wasn’t going to fall— or worse, pass out— from the slightest movement, he carefully removed his hands from his ears. The noise was overwhelming, but he grit his teeth, convincing himself that he deserved this for letting someone die. 

He knew that Mr. Stark would hate him, and that he deserved that as well. He still hesitated before jumping off the building and swinging to the Stark Compound though. It didn’t take long to get there, less than five minutes in fact, but it felt like an eternity. The whole time, Peter could only repeat the same mantra in his head, _‘He’s gonna hate me, I let her die, I’m such a failure.’_ Over and over again, until he was sure it’d be ingrained in his mind permanently. 

Once he’d landed on the roof, he almost convinced himself that ever coming had been a terrible idea. How could he have been so stupid? He yanked his mask off his head when it felt too restricting, taking a large breath of air and doing his best to not let it get caught in his throat. Before he was able to decide whether or not he really wanted to trouble Mr. Stark, the door to the roof opened, and he knew he was too late.

“Kid? What are you doing here so late?!” Mr. Stark practically shouted, and Peter's hands immediately went back up to his ears, a whimper falling from his lips. Mr. Stark seemed to realize what was happening pretty quickly, as he covered his mouth before walking over to Peter, placing a careful hand on the youth's shoulder. 

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” He asked, but Peter quickly shook his head. He knew that Mr. Stark would hate him, and would kick him out of the Compound as soon as he found out what Peter had done. What he'd allowed to happen. He could see his mentor’s eyebrows knit in confusion, and he bent down slightly so that he could properly look Peter in the eyes. 

“Underoos? What’s going on? I need you to talk to me,” He said, and despite Peter’s hand clamped over his head, he could still hear Mr. Stark perfectly. He could feel a familiar burning at the back of his eyes, although he did his best to push them back. He couldn’t cry. Not in front of Mr. Stark. 

“I’m sorry, please don’t hate me,” He finally squeaked out, and if possible, Mr. Stark only looked more confused.

“Hate you? Why would I hate you?” 

“Because—” His own sob cut him off, and he was tempted to bite his lip to stop the cursed noise from leaving his lips once more. He couldn’t speak and bite his lip at the same time though. “Because I— I let her die.” The tears that had been building up finally fell, and he couldn’t stop them no matter how much he tried. He inwardly cursed himself. He wanted to hide the tears, to wipe them away as though they’d never been there, but he couldn’t do that _and_ cover his ears at the same time. It was too much. Everything was just _too much_.

“Let who die?” Mr. Stark’s voice was urgent, and the grip on his shoulder tightened ever so slightly.

“Rob— there was a robbery, and I— I couldn’t save her.” Peter sniffled, and Mr. Stark’s expression melted from confusion to what Peter could only think of as sympathy. 

All of a sudden, Peter couldn’t breathe, even when he tried to take a large gulp of air. His chest burned from the lack of oxygen, and the pain in his head suddenly came back full force. He hunched over slightly, trying to ease the pain in his chest and get in a breath. Just _one_ breath. His panic grew when he couldn’t, and he was almost forced to his knees from the lack of strength. The only thing that kept him up was Mr. Stark’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Okay kid, let’s get inside now. Just keep your ears plugged and try to breathe,” Mr. Stark said, before suddenly Peter’s legs were pulled from underneath him. He found himself being carried by Mr. Stark into the Compound, but he wasn’t able to struggle because of the black spots dancing across his vision. Focus on breathing. Focus on breathing. _Focus on breathing_. 

He was placed down on something soft, and Peter vaguely recognized that it was the couch of the living room on Mr. Stark’s floor. Suddenly, something was being pressed over the hands covering his ears, his own hands being nudged out of the way. With slight hesitation, Peter complied, and he was no longer able to hear _anything_. The sudden change was slightly jarring, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

He looked up at Mr. Stark with wide, teary eyes, wondering why he was being so nice. He’d just admitted to letting someone _die_ , and Mr. Stark was still helping him and his stupid senses. His hand was then grabbed by his mentor's and placed over his chest, Mr. Stark taking big, exaggerated breaths as he sat down next to Peter on the couch, fully facing him. Peter imitated him, facing him as he tried to mimic the other’s breathing.

He choked on nothing once more, and almost dissolved into a panic several more times. The entire way, Mr. Stark was there, being patient with him and never quitting on him. Eventually, he was able to calm himself down enough to breath properly, and he whispered as thanks to the man (at least, he thought he whispered, it was hard to tell with the headphones on).

An indefinite amount of time passed as Peter tried to collect himself, both physically and mentally. When it finally felt as though he wouldn’t need the headphones anymore, and the tears had completely stopped, he cautiously raised a hand and peeled back one side. When his eardrums didn’t burst, he let the headphones fall to his shoulders with a sigh, leaning his side into the couch, feeling incredibly tired all of a sudden.

“Ready to talk?” Mr Stark asked, leaning into the couch as well, looking at Peter’s face for signs of a negative reaction. 

“Yeah,” Peter murmured, his voice quiet but steady.

“So what happened? Something about a robbery?” 

“I wasn’t able to get there before she got shot. She died because of me,” Peter mumbled out, wanting to bury in face in shame. 

“Kid, that’s not your fault. That robber would have attacked her, whether or not you were there."

“Yeah, but if I had just been faster—” 

“Kid, listen to me. No amount of beating yourself up is going to bring that woman back. As a hero, we can’t save everyone. The only thing we can _do_ is our best. Do you think I’ve saved everyone in my career?” Mr. Stark’s question caused Peter’s head to snap up, and he pondered it for a few seconds. Peter wanted to say yes, Mr. Stark had saved everyone, because he was _Iron Man_. The more logical part of him told him that no, he hadn’t, because he’d been around during the disaster of New York. 

He shook his head no, and a crooked grin crossed Mr. Stark’s features. “See kid, nobody's perfect. As heroes, we’re supposed to do everything we can to save everyone, but sometimes things happen that are out of our control. Sometimes, we’re too late, or we’re not strong enough, or we’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only thing we can do is get stronger, so that we can save the next person, and take down the one responsible for hurting others. Hear me?” He asked, and Peter nodded his head, a weight in his chest lifting. 

“Did you get the robber?”

“Yeah, I webbed him up for the police.” 

“Good job kid, come here.” Peter tilted his head in confusion, but then Mr. Stark was opening his arms, and his face broke out into a grin, his features lighting up. 

“We’re there now? Really?”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.” Peter didn’t need to be told twice. He practically jumped into Mr. Stark’s arms, hugging the man eagerly and the other laughed as his back made contact with the arm of the couch. A hand then made its way into Peter’s curls, and Peter sighed into the touch, melting in his mentor’s arms. 

It was in this same position that Pepper found the two of them in the morning, and she quietly asked FRIDAY to take a picture before she started up a cup of coffee.


End file.
